


Drabbles From the New Year

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [43]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Depression, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Happy New Year! A new set of drabbles from 'by any other name'





	1. New Year

* * *

While they were in the Underground, Monsters hadn’t celebrated the New Year, certainly not the way that Humans did. There was little point when tomorrow was the same as the next day, and the next, and a New Years party would have only served as a reminder that nothing had changed.

On the surface, it had been decided that there were more reasons to celebrate. It also made for an excellent opportunity for good publicity. Tickets had been sold to the Embassy event with the proceeds going to charity, and they had been feverishly sought after by everyone from celebrities to politicians to bloggers.

Along with all the normal issues and planning that came with a banquet and celebration, each ticket purchaser also had to be carefully screened for potential issues and Edge’s department had been working feverishly alongside Security to finalize the details, working up until the moment the first valet accepted keys from a finely dressed couple, Humans and Monsters alike welcomed into the Embassy.

Edge took a sip from his glass of non-alcoholic cider, scanning the room with a sharp eye. The grand hall had been tastefully decorated, golden streamers and glimmering lights hanging from the vaulted ceilings, the Delta symbol discretely embellished upon them. Waiters in discreet black shirts, both Human and Monster, were finishing up clearing the tables from the catered dinner, each course carefully planned to appeal to a variety of tastes along with giving each party a sample of the preferences of the other.

Everything had been strategically arranged to be as even as possible between Monsters and Humans, from the guest list to the choice in champagne, and so far, everything was going smoothly.

Edge would reserve naming it a success at the end of the night. He was not superstitious, but it never hurt to be practical.

From what he could tell, the guests were enjoying themselves immensely; the line at the bar moved at a brisk pace, the dance floor was always full, and groups gathered at the sidelines were smiling and chatting, snacking from their dessert plates. Red was here somewhere, Edge knew, very likely listening very closely to the various conversations and it would probably take Edge a week to go through all the information in the discreet report he expected to find at his desk tomorrow.

On the other side of the hall, Undyne was keeping her own eye on the crowd, closer to where Asgore stood, head and shoulders taller than most of the crowd. Frisk and Toriel had been in attendance at the dinner, but hadn’t stayed to ring in the New Year, pleading that the hour was too late for them.

Blue and Papyrus were on the dance floor, along with Antwan and Jeff, Sans watching them from the sideline with a dessert plate. Which left Edge’s headcount minus one. The most important one.

The last time he’d seen Stretch he’d been surrounded by a crowd. His natural charisma and charm drew people in, Monster and Human, and his presence could be tracked by the occasional roar of laughter. 

It made it easy for Edge to keep tabs on him, since he couldn’t stay by his side. Not tonight, not with so much riding on this celebration. There were plenty of powerful Humans here tonight, with the potential to assist in passing Monster-friendly laws, or even to provide simple positive publicity. They needed tonight to go smoothly which meant Edge was not here to enjoy the canapes. He was working.

There had only been minor disturbances, mostly caused by too much alcohol and easily smoothed over. Edge had discreetly assisted a wobbly Human to the restroom, directing the Attendant to keep a close eye on him in case he needed medical assistance, and when he’d returned, there had been no sign of Stretch’s audience, nor the siren call of laughter.

The lack sent a trill of discomfort up his spine.

His earpiece crackled, a low murmur barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “calm down, bro, he stepped outside to get a smoke.”

“Did I look worried?” Edge asked low, coolly.

“nah, but i know you better than most.” Red sounded amused, from where ever his brother had secreted himself away. “it’s almost midnight, go get him.”

“If it’s almost midnight, I need to be here.” The potential for any squabble to turn explosive was entirely too high.

“have some faith in my team and go get the honey bun.” That alone left Edge a little disconcerted, his brother was aware possible scenarios, of everything that could go wrong in the next few minutes. And he proved it by adding, “you really want him alone outside at midnight?”

That decided things. He gave Undyne a signal across the room and she nodded, gesturing to a Monster next to her to come over and replace him. Edge made his way to the double doors that led out to the courtyard, passing groups of tittering Humans and Monsters, all of whom were selecting glasses of champagne from the trays the waiters were carrying around.

The air outside was refreshingly cool, a few other people taking it in, and in the corner near the fountain, he saw Stretch, tall and shadowy in the fairy lights that were strung about.

“hey, babe,” Stretch gave him a smile as he walked over, tamping out his cigarette. “sorry, i needed some air.”

“It’s all right. You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Edge said dryly, tsking softly as he straightened Stretch’s suitcoat, removing his rumpled bowtie completely. Even as tousled as he was, Stretch always cut a handsome figure, carelessly attractive.

Stretch shrugged. “it’s okay. be more fun with you around to hate on my jokes, but you can’t have everything.”

It made him frown, unsettled, his hands catching hold of Stretch’s lapels. “I’m sorry, love, but this is so important—”

“whoa, no apologies,” Stretch caught his hands, his thumbs stroking softly over the backs of Edge’s gloves. “i only meant i missed you, not that you had to feel bad about it.” His smile was soft, warming even through the chill. “i mean, when don’t i want you close by?”

Never, he hoped, because there was never a moment he didn’t want Stretch by his side. The volume of the crowd inside increased, bursting through the doors with excitement and he could hear them counting down eagerly. His earpiece was silent, no one scolding him to return to his post, and his husband was smiling at him.

Stretch’s pale eye lights were drinking him in, love that Edge knew so well glowing within them. Another year with Stretch was not too much to ask of the universe, not so very much.

As the countdown reached one, the cheering soared, and Edge leaned in close to hear Stretch murmur to him, “happy new year.”

His mouth was soft, sweet, only faintly tainted with cigarettes. Edge pulled him in close, and his only wish was for more of this in the coming year.

-finis


	2. Swingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch could usually persuade Edge in just about anything. It's not as bad as it sounds.

* * *

One of the worst parts of winter, in Stretch’s opinion, was that the sun went down entirely too soon. 

It was usually dark when Edge got home from work and while he was generous with his time, content to join Stretch in whatever plans he might have, (even absurd ones, giving Stretch those judge-y looks even as he smiled with his eye lights, and Stretch didn’t think it was possible to love him more, but yeah, turned out it was) the early nightfall did tend to put a damper on things. 

That was all kinds of whatever, though, because Stretch wasn’t about to let it stop him from spending time with his hubby, thanks. Tonight, he didn’t have anything weird in the hopper; not that watching Edge patiently helping him put little coats and scarves on the chickens for a winter wonderland photoshoot hadn’t been a joy. Nah, tonight he had something a little simpler in mind. 

The snowfall from earlier in the day had tapered off by the time Edge had pulled into the driveway and it didn’t take much persuasion to get him to agree to a walk. 

Stretch didn’t even protest the toboggan cap Edge tugged over his skull. Even if it was the one with the snowflakes.

The snowy streets of New New home were plowed and the sidewalks were heated to keep them clear, a well-appreciated luxury. It made it easy to stroll along, their gloved hands gently entwined. No one else was out, only the rare car passing by, briefly illuminating them with their headlights. For once, Stretch didn’t feel any urge to chatter. It felt good to simply be here, breathing in the chilly night air with Edge walking next to him.

They passed by the school in their meandering and beneath the yellowed glow from one streetlight, the hulking shapes of the playground equipment stood empty, all the children long since tucked into the warm beds. Well, there was a temptation not worth resisting and, with a laugh, Stretch scampered over through the snow to plop down into one of the swings. 

Edge walked over more slowly, shaking his head. 

“come on, swing with me!” Stretch beamed up at him, gripping the chains with his gloved fingers.

“I’d rather not,” Edge said. His expression was impassive, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

Stretch let his grin sag into disappointed pleading, “aw, come on, it’s fun!”

“No, I…to be honest, I’m not really sure how,” Edge admitted. He nudged one of the seats with the toe of his boot, watching it sway emptily. “I’ve never used a swing before.”

Oh.

Stretch could have slapped his own stupid face for that bit of dumbassery. Of course Edge had never used a fucking swing; his childhood had been spent trying to stay alive, it wasn’t like he’d had time to take a spin on the merry-go-round in between dodging the salivating, LV-crazed Monsters of Underfell. Probably hadn’t even seen a playground before coming up to the surface, much less used one for actual play.

‘Course, there was no reason things had to stay that way. 

Stretch patted his bent knees invitingly. “c’mere, babe.”

“I am not about to desecrate playground equipment for one of your kinky whims,” Edge said dryly. 

“not tonight, you’re not,” Stretch agreed. “but i mean it, come here.”

Warily, he did, stopping directly in front of Stretch, his sockets narrowed suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

“we’re gonna play spider,” Stretch told him, “what you need to do is straddle my lap, facing me, and—”

“I will not!” Edge exclaimed. He took half a step back, his eye lights widening, scandalized. 

“oh, come on, kids play it all the time!”

“Really?” Edge said skeptically. “You’re expecting me to believe that this is entirely innocent, and you have no ulterior motive whatsoever?”

Well, Stretch wasn’t about to go that far. Little bit too cold for any actual fun but nothing wrong with getting a little frisky. Instead of answering that, he made a scoffing noise, shaking his head, “get your mind out of the gutter, perv, i used to play this with my bro.”

Edge didn’t look convinced. “I’m too heavy for you.”

“okay, first, no, and second, it’s only for a few minutes. please?”

His sigh was long-suffering but Stretch grinned to hear it. Fuck yes, that was the sound of a husband who was giving in. It was a bit awkward to get Edge’s legs on either side of him; they were both just a little taller than the average playground attendee. Soon enough, though, Edge was settled into his lap, his hands tightly gripping the chains above Stretch’s. 

“easy,” Stretch winced as Edge wriggled a little, rocking their pelvis together. “it ain’t gonna stay innocent if you keep up with that.”

Close as their faces were, Edge had no trouble conveying that he was deeply unimpressed. “I assume you have some purpose for this?”

“yep. hang on.” Stretch braced his feet on the ground and backed up, causing Edge to yelp, gripping the chains and his femurs tightened around Stretch’s pelvis.

“What are you—”

“swinging!” Stretch leaned back and let go and they swung forward. At the height of the arc, he called, “okay, lean back and straighten your legs, go on.”

He laughed as Edge did and they sailed back. Edge caught on quickly and soon they were going higher, and higher, Stretch laughing gleefully as the wind swept past them and the chains creaked. To his utter delight, Edge started laughing as well, softer and more private between them but it was so rare for his love to actually laugh out loud. His humor was usually more subtle but for now at least, he was as elated as Stretch. 

There was something about swinging that he’d always loved, that second when it felt like gravity loosed its grip and for the briefest of moment, it was like flying. Even a shortcut couldn’t compare.

Especially not right now, in the chilly, shadowy darkness with nothing but the squeak of the swing and Edge’s laughter against him, the two of them trying to go higher still, flying together. It would have been okay if this moment wanted to last for a little slice of forever. 

Not in the cards, sadly enough. As Edge had predicted, all too soon his weight was getting to be too much and with reluctance, Stretch let his feet drag in the soft snow beneath the swing until they slowed to a stop.

They were both breathing heavily, and Stretch was already missing the laughter. Yeah, they were definitely doing this again, no question, and if Edge liked swinging maybe there were other things Stretch could find for him to try. Drawing the line at parachuting, but hell, nothing wrong with seeing what Google had to offer. 

“so, not bad—urk!” Stretch cut off in surprise as Edge let go of the chains to catch hold of him, hugging him tightly. 

“That was wonderful!” he gushed, _gushed_ , his husband, his eye lights sparkling with his delight. Before Stretch could agree his words were garbled again into Edge’s suddenly feverish mouth, pouring all that eagerness into an enthusiastic kiss. 

Um, okay, this was seriously testing Stretch’s resolve not to desecrate the playground. 

He didn’t really mean to deepen the kiss, but Edge’s mouth was so sweetly yielding, his tongue tracing delicately over Stretch’s teeth and when he had to hold back a shaky groan, Stretch knew it was time to put on the brakes. He pulled back with a gasp, cupping Edge’s face in his gloved hands and resting their foreheads together.

“babe,” he panted, “let’s get back home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a whimper as Edge’s pelvis rocked wildly against his own as he struggled to get free of the swing. 

The rush of cold was a blessing as Edge finally managed to get off his lap and Stretch dragged in a couple long, deep breaths of the chilly air. He barely had time to adjust before Edge grabbed him by the hand, tugging him stumbling along until his legs remembered how gravity worked.

Oh, hell yes, they were definitely going to do this again, but it seemed that it was time to go along with Edge’s plans for the night. 

That was fine, it wasn’t like it was too early to go to bed. After all, it was dark outside. 

-finis-


	3. Given a Hand (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch has always loved Edge's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter!

* * *

The thing was, Stretch actually loved Edge’s hands. 

Not that he ever really got to see them; Edge wore gloves constantly, like it was some kind of royal decree from the King himself, pretty much 24/7.

He must own dozens of pairs in a variety of materials, depending on what task Edge needed them for. Whether he was going to work or gardening, or rolling out biscuit dough. He had gloves for every occasion, from ones that ended at the wrist to ones that went all the way up to his elbows. Generally red or black, but occasionally he branched out, got a pair with a subtle pattern because his baby was all about fashion. Even white satin gloves with his tuxedo, a rare treat to see because yeah, Stretch didn’t give a shit about clothes, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate them with the right motivation. 

Usually Edge wore his wedding band over his gloves, except in the kitchen where he had a special dish set at the back of the counter for holding his ring. Better not to cook with it on, or so Stretch had been told. 

Stretch had never asked about the whole glove thing. He had a damn laundry list of his own issues, so he understood pretty well when to back off. Besides, it wasn't like he minded. He'd grown very accustomed to the feel of rasping satin, buttery leather, soft cotton on his bones. Hell, at this point he'd probably start drooling like Pavlov's dog just watching Edge pull on a pair and sometimes he did, watched as he smoothed them over his forearms, flexing his long fingers in them.

The only time Edge usually took them off was to shower and sometimes Stretch could finagle his way into the stall, catch a moment with those hands while they were covered in nothing but water, and that, friends and neighbors, was a rare treat. 

It was a delicate maneuver, for sure. Edge was kinda leery of shower sex as it was, said it was dangerous, and he could cite statistics to go with it. Fucking skeletal Wikipedia when it came to knowing how things could go wrong. 

Which was why a blowjob was the perfect offering. Stretch got to kneel for it, no chance of him slipping or falling, and cracking open his skull. He could agree with Edge on that, at least; no reason for them to have matching his and his scars. Plus, the shower was warm, comfortable, pouring soothingly down on him while he sucked Edge off. 

Those long, wet fingers resting very delicately on his skull made Stretch shiver, briefly closing his sockets. He kept his movements slow and even, bobbing his head, curling his tongue around the shaft. The water was too loud for him to hear much, pouring down on him with glorious heat, but he could feel the vibration of Edge moaning.

He kept his own hands curled around Edge’s pelvis, rubbing his thumbs over sensitive notches and indentations. Fuck, but he loved sucking Edge, loved to feel the hot glide of his cock between his teeth, loved that this was his moment of power, his chance to make Edge struggle to keep still. Eventually it was a fight he’d lose, and Stretch lived for that moment. For Edge’s need to override his control. 

The faint tremble in his hands that told Stretch he was close. Obligingly, he swallowed around him, felt him gasp, the sudden hot pulse against his conjured tongue alongside the barest pinprick of his fingertips against his skull. Edge caught himself all too quickly, loosening his grip and sagging back against the wall of the shower stall. 

Slowly, Stretch pulled off, looked up at Edge, blinking as water ran into his sockets. He ran his crimson-tinged tongue over his teeth with deliberate care. Edge was still trembling with aftershocks and yet, his eye lights flared, deep red briefly outlined in white as his gaze dropped to Stretch’s mouth. 

Stretch smirked wider. Oh, yeah, his baby was easy if you knew what buttons to push and Stretch had them memorized.

“You’re a brat,” Edge told him hoarsely. Lightly, he traced Stretch’s teeth with the knuckle of one finger, keeping that dangerous point away from him. 

Okay, yeah, to hell with that. 

“you love it.” Stretch caught that hand in a careful grip, keeping his touch light in case Edge wanted to pull away. He didn’t, but his fingers were tense, trying not to curl into a fist. Slowly, Stretch ran his tongue over his first two fingers, deliberately holding Edge’s gaze as he drew them into his mouth. 

The tips were very sharp and required cautious navigation but there was something thrilling in that as well, and Stretch couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping, sucking softly on those digits. He could taste the water pouring down on them, the faint mineral flavor of bone, a spice of Edge’s magic. He pulled off with an obscene wet sound, lazily curling his tongue around those long fingers. 

“Fuck…” trailed off above him and flicking a glance upward showed him Edge was watching avidly. 

“you want anything else while i’m down here?” Stretch asked idly, licking his way up one slender, bony finger. He let the sharp point barely prick his tongue, inhaling sharply at the faint pinch of it. 

He yelped as he was abruptly pulled to his feet, Edge’s tongue licking at his teeth before pushing between them, sharing the taste of his own magic between their mouths. 

That was game, set, match for loss of control, and Stretch knew that in a moment Edge would pull them both out of the shower, dry them briskly, haphazardly, before dragging Stretch to their bed. And that Edge would almost certainly pull on a pair of gloves before joining him. 

Briefly, he mourned the coming loss but only briefly. Edge would be happier with them and Stretch loved those hands just as much with the gloves on. 

-finis-


	4. My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music soothes the savage beast. Or husbands. Mostly.

* * *

Usually Stretch was upstairs when Edge got home from work, sprawled on the sofa with something blaring on the television or playing on his phone while he listened to one of his podcasts. 

There were days when he got caught up in the lab, though; an experiment running too long or simply too interesting to leave. Like today, when he shortcutted into their living room and found the TV already co-opted, set to one of those oldies stations that Edge liked so much and probably didn’t get to listen to as often as he’d like. 

It made him feel a little guilty but eh, if Edge had wanted to listen to his own music, he only needed to ask. Or hell, he wasn’t even in the living room, he was probably listening to it in the kitchen which meant he couldn’t hear it well through the door. Maybe Stretch needed to think about installing a sound system in the kitchen, one that Edge could use with his phone. His baby had a thing for music, it was a wonder he hadn’t asked for it. Then again, Edge wasn’t always great at asking for things he _wanted_ , only that which he _needed_. 

Music should be a need, Stretch decided abruptly. He’d see what he had downstairs and get working on it tomorrow. It was important to Edge, so it was important to him. 

Once, late at night when neither of them could sleep, Edge had told him that when he’d been very young, Red had found an entire selection of cassettes at the dump along with a broken Walkman. Most of them hadn’t been salvageable but a few had, a selection of classical music and another variety tape of crooners like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. He probably could have sold them, that kind of stuff was rare find and fuck knew they probably needed the G, but instead he’d given them to Edge. Only one of the earphones on his jury-rigged Walkman had worked and the sound quality had been poor, but as a child, it had been his greatest treasure, that and those tapes, and late at night he’d listened to them over and over, a distraction from the world around him and the ache of hunger within.

It had all been lost to them when they’d escaped to Snowdin. Coming here to the surface and finding not only the songs he remembered but dozens, hundreds more, had been a gift he’d never dreamed of ever finding. 

“The only thing better I’ve ever gotten was you,” Edge had told him in the quiet darkness, more asleep than not, and yeah, his baby was a sap and a half. Good thing Stretch loved it. 

This song wasn’t one he knew and Stretch closed his eyes to hear it better, swaying in a half-hearted box step. Before he could even bump into the coffee table, he heard from behind him. 

“That is the sloppiest waltz I’ve ever seen.”

He opened his sockets to find Edge was leaning against the kitchen door, watching him with dry amusement. There was a smear of flour on his apron but whatever he was making must not be in imminent danger because he only smirked when Stretch stopped and lifted his chin indignantly. 

“think you can do better, maestro?”

“That isn’t exactly what maestro means. But yes.”

Without even bother to take off his apron, Edge stepped up and pulled him in, a little closer than was probably necessary. Smoothly, he led them into a waltz, spinning them slowly around their living room and damn if it wasn’t a delight to get Edge to dance with him for once. The most frustrating thing about the fact that Edge didn’t like dancing in public was that he was really good at it, precise and elegant and Stretch dearly wished he got more opportunities to show him off. 

Eh, in the scheme of things it wasn’t that big a deal and besides, it meant he got to have moments like this. 

All too soon the song was coming to an end. With a flourish, Edge dipped him low, making Stretch let out a startled squeak, particularly since Edge didn’t immediately pull him back to his feet. Instead, he kept him leaning precariously back, for once the shorter of them. 

Edge’s hand was secure at the base of his spine, but Stretch couldn’t resist a sly, “try not to drop me, yeah? now would be a bad time to come down with a case of the butterfingers.”

“As if I would,” Edge said dryly, but his eye lights betrayed him, soft with amusement. “To begin with, you’d never let me live it down.”

“not in a million years,” he agreed. He let his hand drift until his fingertips were resting against Edge’s cheekbone then leaned up for a kiss. He wasn’t used to stealing them from the shorter side of things

Edge gave it willingly, a tender brush of teeth, humming in soft appreciation as Stretch skimmed his fingertips along the strong line of his jaw.

A little hazily, Stretch sighed, deepened it; he could never get tired of these kisses, never, tenderness melting into something more eager and if dinner was going to be a while he might be getting more than a kiss or two. A guy could hope. 

His unfamiliar position still felt precarious and Stretch shifted his feet, trying to get a bit of leverage. It only registered that he’d managed to kick Edge’s foot out from under him when he lost his balance, breaking the kiss to snarl a curse. Stretch was laughing before they even hit the floor, his breath knocked out of him in a whoosh as Edge came down hard on top of him. Belatedly, he caught up most of his own weight on his own hands, glaring down at Stretch even as he giggled helplessly.

“That does not count as me dropping you,” Edge said tartly.

“i dunno, babe, the floor feels pretty close to me.” He nearly shrieked as Edge dug his fingers into his ribs, right in the tickle zone, the cheater. ”okay, okay, you didn’t drop me. outside interference, it doesn’t count!”

“Thank you.” Edge leaned in close. “Two-point penalty.”

“you don’t even watch sport…ohhhh,” Stretch groaned as Edge nibbled a path downward, tugging aside his sweatshirt to find his collar bone. 

Oh, yeah. Dinner could wait. 

-finis-


	5. Any Other Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday nights Edge spends volunteering at the Y, which leaves Stretch on his own. Not that he can't handle it, thank you, he's an adult. Mostly.

* * *

Stretch had known that Edge had a thing for feeding people before they’d ever started dating. It was kinda hard to miss on movie nights when he had enough food laid out for another dozen alternate universe skeletons to show up on the doorstep. 

Probably better to not even think about that, tempting fate and all. 

Anyway, getting into a relationship only meant that Stretch understood the reason a little better. Plus, he got to reap the benefits a lot more often, it was a rare night that he didn’t have dinner waiting for him, tempting and delicious. Except on Wednesdays. 

Wednesday was the day that Edge volunteered down at the Y and that meant Stretch had to get off his ass and play what Edge had dubbed his ‘Hazardous Leftover Extravaganza’ because Edge secretly thought he was fucking hilarious. 

Stretch did, too, even if all he got were skeptical looks whenever he told people. There were worse things than having your own private comedian, for sure. 

So yeah, Wednesdays. Unless he wanted to wait for Edge to get home, he had to make his own dinner. Truth be told, he kinda liked it, there was always plenty in the fridge to pick from, and he got to try some interesting combinations from time to time. 

Leftover macaroni and cheese mixed with fried rice served up on tortillas was a taste sensation he would not soon forget. 

Wednesdays were usually good for another reason, too. Edge had an incredible amount of stamina, a match to his HP, but spending a few hours with a bunch of kids wore out even him. When he got home, he was always more than ready to sprawl on the sofa and watch whatever Stretch had on the television. 

Not that Edge wasn’t good for snuggling, he was, and if Stretch ever made him think his cuddle meter was running low, he was perfectly happy to help gas him up. 

The thing was, he was so damn busy all the time. Sometimes working on Embassy stuff, not something Stretch liked to interrupt, sometimes cooking, which Stretch really didn’t like to interrupt since that came with other benefits, but also, it was relaxing for Edge to bake or sauté or whatever caught his fancy that day. He enjoyed playing Master Chef, and what, Stretch was going to drag him away from that because he was feeling needy? Not happening. 

But Wednesday, ah, that was the day, Edge tipping over from merely tired into worn out and on those days there was no question; cuddles were imminent. 

All he had to do first was survive dinner. 

Today’s leftover haul was vegetable mostaccioli stuffed inside fresh pitas that had been smeared with hummus, weirdly delicious, and Stretch had a mouthful when the door opened. He chewed hastily, wanting to be ready to greet his hubby when he came in, only for his greeting to falter when Edge stepped inside.

He was always worn out on Wednesday nights, yeah, but that…that looked a few too many steps past tired. Stretch sat up straight, skipping concerned and taking a shortcut to worried because Edge had already been having a shit week. “babe? you okay?”

Edge toed off his shoes and stripped off his coat before asking, “What on earth are you eating?” 

“okay, you’re not allowed to diss it when you haven’t even—” he trailed off as Edge scooped up one of the pitas off the plate and ate it in three bites, not even wincing when he hit the hummus pocket. 

Um, okay, looked like they were sharing dinner? Not that Stretch minded but—

Edge’s expression didn’t change as he lay down on the sofa, not sprawling but drawing his knees up to his chest as he settled his skull into Stretch’s lap. Stretch was already wrapped up in most of the blanket but with a little judicious squirming, he got a corner loose, draping it over Edge. 

“babe?” Stretch tried again, more than a little alarmed. Thus far Edge had missed out on at least three opportunities to bitch; about the food, about the way Stretch was eating it, and about the way he’d had his feet on the coffee table, and he’d taken none of them. The dark smudges under his sockets that had shown up earlier this week were vivid, stark against bone. Hesitantly, he draped an arm over Edge, squeezing softly when he wasn’t rebuffed. “are you all right?”

“Child protective services came and took one of my boys,” he said flatly, emotionless. 

“…what?” Stretch whispered, stunned. “they can just…take them like that? what about his parents?”

“His father was arrested, I wasn’t told the details,” Edge didn’t look at him, his eye lights focused on the television. Tonelessly, he went on, “He was crying and begging me to not let them take him and there was nothing I could do. I assume he’ll be placed in foster care if he has no other family. The woman wasn’t able to give me any information on that.”

“they took him right in front of the other kids?” That seemed…it seemed cruel, it seemed wrong…

“They didn’t have much choice, we were all outside waiting for the bus,” Edge sighed heavily. “They didn’t want him to come home and see all the police cars, they were afraid he’d run away. They were trying to be kind, but all children see is police officers coming to take them.” And there was a crack in his composure, a faintest break in his voice. “The other children were upset and frightened. I can only imagine they were afraid the same thing may happen to them, unlikely as that might be.”

Edge closed his sockets. “I had to send them home with that as their last moment of the day. Jonathon is somewhere right now, frightened and with no one he knows, and there’s nothing I can do. I see these children once a week, I’m only a small part of their lives. And he was begging me to help him.”

From beneath the blanket, a gloved hand slipped out and caught Stretch’s, tangling their fingers together and squeezing hard. “I couldn’t have done anything. I couldn’t have stopped them, they were following the law but—”

Edge trailed off, his grip painfully tight. 

Helplessly, Stretch looked down at his husband, tears burning hot in his sockets to see Edge hurting so much. He’d never even met these kids, but he could imagine their fear, watching one of their friends being taken away, could imagine the boy himself and how terrified he must be. 

Ah, fuck, he couldn’t believe he was going to offer this. Stretch swallowed hard, and managed, “if…if he…the kid, jonathon. if he needs a place to stay. someone to stay with. i mean, we have a spare room—“

Edge went very still and Stretch trailed off. Slowly, Edge sat up, the blanket falling away as he shifted to slide both arms around Stretch and hugged him tightly. Stretch bit his tongue and hugged him back, clinging to him. It would be fine, it…he could do this, for a little while, right, he could do this for Edge and—

“Love,” Edge murmured against his skull, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I understand how difficult it was for you to offer that, but under the current laws Monsters aren’t permitted to foster Human children.” 

“oh.” He tried not to let his relief filter into his voice, stupid, selfish relief, yeah, but he’d meant it. He would have dealt with having a needy kid for a little while, for Edge. Meanwhile, Edge was holding him tightly enough that his ribs were starting to ache. 

“Thank you,” Edge said, softly, fervently.

“i didn’t really do anything,” Stretch muttered, guilt at his own relief sour on the back of his tongue.

Edge made a soft, hushing sound, and set another kiss at his temple. “That you offered means a great deal to me.”

Yeah, that was about enough of that. Stretch squirmed, discomfited, and Edge loosened his grip. At this point Edge was less on his lap and more just…on him, but he moved enough settled a little more of his weight on the sofa, pulling the blanket back over them both. 

“What are we watching?” Edge asked and if he didn’t sound completely himself, he sounded better than when he’d walked in the door. 

“'nailed it',” Stretch told him. As he spoke, the music swelled and the contestants revealed their attempts at a gingerbread house. ‘Attempt’ being the word of the day. 

Edge groaned. “How can you stand to watch this incompetence?”

“it’s funny,” Stretch told him loftily, “plus it’s nice to see people that are worse cooks than i am.”

“Rus, you aren’t _that_ bad a cook,” Edge shook his head in disgust. “You can at least bake.”

“rather let you be the head chef, babe,” Stretch teased, and for the rest of the show, they sat and watched, Stretch laughing and Edge groaning at every reveal. Stretch knew the ugliness of the day wasn’t forgotten and that Edge was going to have to deal with the fallout next Wednesday. He knew that. 

But he could help Edge set it aside, for a little while. 

-fin


	6. Knead to Know Basis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ~~kneads~~ needs a little stress relief.

* * *

Making bread was excellent as a stress reliever, Edge had learned. Kneading it enough to build up the proper amount of gluten took genuine effort, particularly with the quantity he was making, and his arms ached pleasantly when he set the dough aside for a second proofing. 

He took a step back from the counter to survey his results with satisfaction. Two loaves were already in the oven, another two rising, and by the time he was done they and all their friends would have a week’s worth of bread. Possibly more, honestly, he might have to add a few loaves to their freezer if he didn’t want any to go to waste; he’d made quite a bit over the past few days. 

His stresses of the past week were perhaps a bit more than simply making bread could relieve, but at least when he was kneading bread, music playing in the background from the discreet speakers Stretch had insisted on installing in his kitchen, he didn’t have to _think_ , didn’t have to turn things over and over in his thoughts. He could let his mind drift, focused on Mozart and working the dough in his hands until it turned smooth and silky. 

Thinking of his husband…the bread in the oven would be done soon and Stretch was particularly fond of it when it was still warm, spread thick with butter and honey, and Edge was of a mind to allow a little overindulgence. 

A glance out into the living room showed an empty sofa and Edge frowned. He’d been there not that long ago, watching that wretched cooking show, where had he gotten off to?

The curtain on the sliding glass door was drawn back, an obvious clue. Possibly he was letting the hens roam, it was cold and snowy, but the exercise did them good. Looking out the glass made his soul skip a pulse, clenching in him with nauseating fear. 

Out in their backyard, Stretch was sprawled out in the snow, unmoving. One of the chickens, Nugget, was on his knee, perched happily with her feathers fluffed up while the other two gathered at his feet, scratching at the frozen ground. 

His first instinct was to raw panic but with some difficulty, he tamped it down. Panic was useless, nothing but an incompetent fracture in control. He could see Stretch’s eye lights from here, the soft glow cutting through the lightly falling snow. Even if he was truly hurt, if he was conscious it was almost certain that he could still shortcut into the house. If he was hurt. 

Edge set his fear back a pace, though he didn’t dismiss it, stepping into a pair of boots before going out into the cold.

“i’m fine,” Stretch called before he took more than a step out the door.

“That’s good to hear,” Edge walked over to him anyway. The sourness of fear was still lingering, and it would be easier to dismiss if he had a better visual. Or perhaps not, it was unnerving to see Stretch so very still, the fluffy snowflakes piling on him in little drifts. “Dare I ask what you’re doing?”

“dare, dare, you’re a brave guy,” Stretch grinned at him and the sight eased a little of his anxiousness. But Stretch hesitated, his sockets sinking to half closed before he admitted, “i’m…thinking.”

“Thinking,” Edge repeated, slowly.

“yeah…” Stretch sighed. He stirred a little, restlessly, Nugget riding his movements easily and the snow fluttering from him to the ground. “it’s a problem i’m working on. i’m stuck, there has to be a way but i can’t…it’s on the tip of my brain, and i can’t shake it loose. so i thought if i could think of other things, maybe i could untangle it.”

“Therefore, you’re laying in the snow,” Edge said, dubiously, “thinking.”

“therefore, i’m laying in the snow thinking,” Stretch agreed. “the cold is, i dunno, refreshing.”

Edge considered that. The cold was already sinking through his shirt uncomfortably but then, he wasn’t wearing a coat. He sank down to kneel in the snow, uncaring as chilly wetness seeped into his pants at the knees, and gave Stretch a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

“Try not to get too cold?” Edge whispered it against the smooth bone, biting back any other words that tried to tumble out. Only to startle as Stretch caught him by the back of the head and pulled him down for a real kiss. His mouth was cold but the brief touch of his tongue was warm enough. 

“not too cold,” Stretch told him, softly. “i’m good babe, i’ll be in soon.”

Edge nodded, ignoring the voice at the back of his skull that demanded he end this ridiculousness immediately and drag him inside. That idea was unworthy of his attention. Instead, he went inside alone, back to the kitchen to dig the cocoa powder out of the pantry. 

Stretch liked hot chocolate after being out in the cold weather and he wanted to have a cup ready for him, when he came back inside. 

-finis


	7. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some temptations are worth resisting.

* * *

One of the things that Edge would never take for granted was the sheer bliss of a hot shower. He must have had one as a child at some point, but his first real memory of one was when he’d been nearly a teenager, and even when he and Red had had their own house in Underfell, there was no guarantee that the fitful electricity would be working at any given time. 

To be able to step into a shower stall and let near-scalding water pour down on him at any hour was a gift, to be sure, and he stayed in far too long basking in it, pushing aside any faint guilt over wasting water. 

That warmth was still glowing in his bones when he walked back into his bedroom in his robe to find Stretch already asleep, sprawled gracelessly in the middle of their bed, tucked beneath the covers. The sight made him smile. Tired as he was, he couldn’t help being amused by the exasperating mess of it. Every inch of the comforter and sheet was rucked up around him, untucked and rumpled, and one bare foot poked out from the bottom, his phalanges curling in the chilly air. 

Carefully, Edge sat on the corner of the bed and peeled the blankets up a little. He cupped that foot in his palm, tracing the smooth line of bone, from his ankle up the length of his tibia and fibula. He never tired of this, the ivory gleam and silken gloss of Stretch’s bones. In his loose grip, that foot twitched. 

"hmmm?" Stretch murmured sleepily. "wassat?"

"You’re taking up the entire bed," Edge told him softly. He drew his gloved fingertips along the delicate intricacies of Stretch’s ankle, marveling in their sinuous movement as Stretch shifted. 

"mmhmmm,” Stretch sighed. His foot twisted slightly in Edge’s grip, slender toes curling, and he mumbled, “you want somethin', lover?" 

He did, his own magic was stirring heatedly, and yet…"You're tired."

"mmhm, tired," Stretch slurred out agreeably. "feels good, though." His sockets never so much as flickered open, skull dropping to the side on the pillow as a low snore escaped from him.

Edge shook his head, carefully tucking his foot beneath the blankets. It only took a moment to hang up his robe and change into his pajamas. He checked his alarm before turning off the light and sliding into bed, nudging Stretch over enough to make room. The soft, agreeable sounds Stretch made when Edge curled up behind him were temptingly adorable, but Edge only pressed his face between his scapulae and inhaled the sweetness of his scent. 

Perhaps in the morning he would skip his run for once and see if he could lure Stretch into wakefulness, pull him from his dreams with kisses and caresses. His morning sleepiness was a treasure far beyond late night exhaustion, promising to be drowsily willing to make love with the dawn light creeping through their windows, nestled together in the warmth of their bed. 

Worth waiting for. 

-finis-


	8. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually link my drabbles together, they're just sort of slices inside a bigger story. But the last one sort of begged for a morning after and it wouldn't leave my brain alone.

* * *

He was going to be late for work.

Edge was famously punctual. It was something of a running joke, to the point that the last time he’d called off, several people had stopped him the next day to ask if he was all right. It was somewhat touching, if not a little exasperating, and he was expecting much the same later today, perhaps with a side order of teasing because he was definitely going to be late and he was having a difficult time dredging up enough energy to care. 

Stretch was rubbing off on him, it seemed, in more ways than one. Not that he'd say that aloud; his husband would never stop laughing at the pun, even if it were true. 

Like now, curled up in his arms. His breathing was still uneven and his bones still damp with sweat, little tremors shivering through him. So beautiful, every time Edge saw Stretch he thought he could never be more beautiful. It was a pleasure to be proven wrong. 

He would be the first to admit that he was more than a little biased; even so, Edge couldn’t help running his fingers over those delicate bones, listening to his slowing breathing hitch whenever he found a place that was still sensitive and warm with magic. 

Edge would have thought he knew every place, every inch of these bones. So it was a surprise when his fingers discovered a small imperfection on one rib, evidence of a past break. 

He’d never noticed it before, but then, he rarely touched Stretch without gloves. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Stretch liked him to forgo them from time to time, and this morning he’d pushed past his own discomfort and peeled them off, kept his touch as careful and delicate as he could manage, cautious of his sharpened fingertips. 

Stretch’s delight had made it worth the effort, but to discover an old injury after all this time was oddly unnerving. He lingered over it, tracing the healed edges of the wound. “What’s this from?”

“hrm?” Stretch said sleepily. Edge didn’t ask again, not wanting to wake him if he was drifting off. It was much earlier than Stretch normally rose and he might need a bit more sleep, especially after a little unexpected exertion. But he blinked a few times, rousing himself, shifting as if trying to look over his shoulder before realizing he couldn’t stare at his own back. “oh, that? um. i’m not sure, actually.”

“You’re not sure?” Edge said, surprised. He had a few scars of his own that he would be hard pressed to explain but Stretch had so few, he would have thought the answer would come easily.

“yeah, i mean, i was a kid.” He snuggled in a little closer, but Edge could practically feel him wracking his memories. “maybe it was at the dump, we stayed there for a little while after everything. blue has always been pretty good at healing. if i still have a bump, he must’ve been really young.” He squirmed then, trying not to pull away. “that tickles.”

Edge realized he’d been worrying at that scar and forced himself to move on to smoother bone. One very old scar was not going to disturb his serenity his morning. Idly, he found himself thinking of his own scars, the first time Stretch had seen them. 

Edge was under no illusions about his own appearance. He wasn’t ashamed of it by any means, but the scar on his face was hardly the only one he had, it was only the first that anyone saw. Years in Underfell, from childhood to working his way up in the Guard had left their mark. The way he usually dressed kept them concealed; not his intention, only a side effect but it meant that others rarely saw most of his scars. Including Stretch, at the beginning. 

He and Stretch had dated for months before they’d moved past anything but kisses. Eager kisses to be sure, ones that had left him breathless and wanting, and yet, Stretch never pressed him for more. The skeleton who had flirted outrageously with anyone and everyone when they'd first met had been content with those kisses, allowing Edge to decide when to draw back, when his discomfort outweighed his need. He’d settled for little more than being held for a long time, never complaining or protesting when Edge had backed off and left them both unsatisfied.

It seemed foolish in retrospect, that he hadn’t been able to move past those kisses. At the time, though…ah, it didn’t matter. The memory was so clear, he could remember the movie still playing in the background, some foolish comedy that had only been an excuse for Stretch to be in his house and in his arms, back when he’d still needed excuses. 

Edge had been the one who’d tired of it, who had finally pulled back and recklessly yanked off his shirt, allowed Stretch to see what lay beneath it for the first time. His reaction had been unexpected. 

_Stretch was panting when he looked up at Edge, sprawled across the sofa with Edge straddling his lap as he dragged his shirt over his head. His only thought at the time was to be able to feel those slim hands better on his bones instead of struggling to touch him beneath layers of clothing, gingerly and wary, always ready to pull back the moment Edge did._

_Pale, dazed eye lights widened, dropping down to take in his bared rib cage, the scars that crisscrossed the long bones._

_"oh," he said quietly. That tone had cut through Edge's clouded thoughts, hardly wild with desire. He couldn't help stiffening as gentle fingers reached out to stroked over his ribs, following long healed cracks. His desire was rapidly cooling beneath that gaze, but he stayed where he was, his knees on either side of Stretch’s legs, and endured it as he rested a hand over his scarred sternum._

_"It's unsightly, I am aware," Edge said, defiantly. He wasn't about to make excuses or denials, nor cringe away. He was as he was, nothing more._

_"unsightly?" Stretch blinked then, sounding startled, and shook his head. "no. no, i don't think so. they’re beautiful, they're proof you survived.” His touch was so tenderly reverent it made Edge catch his breath, waning desire flaring back to life as those fingertips lingered. “you survived and you’re here with me, fuck, edge, are you kidding, you’re gorgeous, you—”_

_His words were muffled by Edge’s mouth against his own, a low moan caught between their teeth. Edge couldn’t stand it for very long, he’d drawn back only minutes later, panting and wanting but he couldn’t, not yet, not…_

Edge shook away the memory. That was years ago, hardly consequential any longer. They’d moved past it and now they were here, comfortable against each other, and the hand resting on Edge’s sternum now had a ring on it, one that his husband wore proudly even as Stretch drowsily ran a thumb over a long-healed crack, with near the same reverence that he had that first time. 

Gently, Edge closed a hand over Stretch’s wandering fingertips, drawing them up to his mouth so he could kiss those knuckles, the delicate bones unblemished next to his own scarred fingers. 

“I love you,” he murmured, and Stretch’s breath was warm as he hummed agreeably. 

“love you, too,” he mumbled, sighing as Edge tugged him minutely closer. 

He was going to be very late and he didn’t care. They were close enough to newlyweds, after all, and he could endure a little teasing if it allowed him to have this. 

-finis-


	9. A Toast to Butter Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are better ways to wake up in the morning, but honestly, Edge would be hard pressed to think of one.

* * *

At first, Edge thought the beeping sound that woke him was his alarm. He wasted a moment reaching for his phone, staring at it blearily to realize that not only was his alarm not going off, it wasn’t even time for him to get up. 

In that brief moment, it clicked that the sound was the smoke alarm and he automatically reached out for Stretch, only to find his side of the bed was empty, the sheets already cool. 

That did not bode well. 

Warily, Edge followed the beeping down the stairs, to the kitchen door where it was blaring through. The door was cool to the touch and he opened it cautiously, exactly in time to take in the surreal sight of flames licking out of the slots of the toaster, right before Stretch poured an entire box of baking soda over it. 

It extinguished the flames, but it didn’t silence the alarm and Edge could only watch in bemusement as Stretch flapped a towel beneath it frantically in a futile attempt to quiet the thing quicker. He yelped in surprise as Edge walked up behind him, selecting a long-handled spoon from the ceramic holder and using it to press the button on the alarm, finally shutting it off. 

The sudden silence was deafening in its own way, Stretch standing frozen in guilt as Edge raised a brow bone at him in a soundless, ‘well?’

“uh, morning, babe,” Stretch tried gamely. “did you sleep well?”

“I was, yes,” Edge said dryly. “What on earth are you doing?”

“see, it’s funny,” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing a hand over his skull, “but i was thinking, what would be nicer than me making breakfast for you this morning, for a change.”

Edge raised his other brow bone to match the first. “Really? You probably mean that as, ‘funny ha ha’, but I think it falls more along the lines of ‘funny, that’s peculiar,’ considering that for all the cooking shows you watch, you’ve never shown an irrepressible urge to emulate Masterchef.”

“yeah, pretty sure gordon would eliminate me right out of the gate,” Stretch poked at the still smoking toaster glumly. “i’m guessing it’s probably past the point of scraping the toast, huh?”

“Generally, once it ignites, yes.” Edge frowned, sniffing, “Is something else burning?

Stretch yelped, turning towards the stove where a wavering stream of smoke was rising from a pan, “shit!”

Before he could do anything foolish, like grab the pan, Edge caught him by the arm and pulled him back, setting the lid firmly on top of it and turning off the heat. “Leave it for now. What was it?”

“before it was charcoal? it was bacon,” Stretch sighed unhappily, “only i guess i had it set too high. i turned away from it for just a minute to put out the toast and—” Another pot on the back burner let out a burping hiss and Stretch groaned, “oh, for fuck’s sake!”

This time at least he thought to grab an oven mitt before pulling the pot from the heat, setting it on a cold burner with a clatter. 

Honestly, it was like watching a slow-motion catastrophe. “And that was?”

“it was just water for poaching eggs...i sort of didn’t get that far, it boiled away,” He gave Edge a miserably apologetic look. “i think the pan is scorched, fuck, i’m sorry, babe, i was only…i mean, i was trying to…”

Edge had to turn away, desperately covering his mouth, but he was unable to prevent the undignified snort from escaping.

“are you _laughing_ at me?” Came from behind him, sharp with indignation. 

“No,” Edge choked, trying to smother the chuckles. They refused to be stifled and he finally gave in, bursting out laughing while Stretch glared at him. He tried to talk and failed, sagging against the counter until he finally gasped out, “I…oh…I said you could probably burn water, love, but I never meant…for you to make the attempt!”

A reluctant smile twitched at the corners of Stretch’s mouth and he let Edge catch hold of his arm, tugging him in to his arms to nuzzle a kiss against his cervical vertebra. 

“Thank you,” Edge murmured. “I appreciate the thought.”

“yeah, sure,” Stretch grumbled, shifting to a sigh as Edge kissed his way higher, lingering at the sensitive hollow of his ear canal. 

“Why not let me see what I can salvage for breakfast?” Edge whispered against his skull, “And perhaps you can work on cleaning up the burnt offerings?”

“sounds like a deal, babe,” Stretch agreed, and promptly made no attempt to escape as Edge kissed a path to his mouth. 

Well, breakfast was already burnt, they may as well find another way to turn up the heat. 

-finis-


	10. Just a Sniffle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a cold. I refuse to suffer alone.

* * *

Monsters were not susceptible to the sicknesses of Humans, which was a definite point in favor of a blended society. The same was true in reverse; Monster sicknesses were not transmittable to Humans. That said, some of their illnesses were alike, in particular the common cold. 

The similarities were uncomfortably close. 

“Atchhoo!!” Edge sneezed violently into a tissue, wiping away oozing magic residue before dropping it into the trash can on the floor beside him with its previously used brethren. Closing his sockets, he slouched back against the arm of the sofa. His breathing was too loud and annoying, whistling thickly despite the layer of Vicks Stretch had coated him with, swearing that it would help. 

It had, but there was only so much ointment could do. In the end there was nothing for it but struggle through the misery. Already he felt too hot, his pajamas clinging stickily, his blanket kicked down by his feet. But not away, Edge was sure he would be needing it again soon. He hadn’t had a cold himself in ages, but he’d cared for Stretch through enough of them to know what to expect. 

A quiet clink made him open his sockets to find his husband setting a glass on a coaster, close enough for him to reach easily. The faint annoying thirst that had been nagging at him suddenly reasserted itself with a vengeance at the sight of the icy glass of water dripping condensation and he grabbed it eagerly, downing half of it in one gulp.

“easy, babe,” Stretch cautioned as he neatened the table, lining up medicines and the tissue boxes. “you’ll make yourself nauseous drinking too fast.”

“I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t be here, you should stay with your brother until I’m feeling better,” Edge croaked out. Not that he didn’t want Stretch here, but as much as his presence was a comfort, he was unpleasantly aware of how susceptible Stretch was to even minor illnesses. 

Still, he didn’t flinch from the cool touch of Stretch’s hand on his skull, almost moaning as he leaned into it. “nice thought, but i’m already exposed at this point. may as well stay here so i don’t track it around town.”

Probably true, but it didn’t help his uneasy discontent at knowing with every sneeze he was exposing Stretch even mo---“ATCHOO!!”

“angel bless you,” Stretch said automatically, then he shook his head, petting Edge gently as he wiped at his nasal cavity with another tissue. “you poor thing. is there anything i can do?”

Feebly, Edge reached out, and he could almost feel Stretch’s bewilderment as he took Edge’s hand in his free one. Immediately Edge pulled it up until he could lay those bones against his cheekbone, sighing at the coolness. 

“ah, i get it.” Stretch splayed his fingers to reach as much as he could, but his hands warmed quickly, that soothing cold fading. “hang on, babe, let me get you an ice pack.”

Only his desperate wish for the promised cold was enough to make him reluctantly let go of Stretch. It seemed like an eternity before he came back but the wait proved worth it and he groaned aloud at the bliss of cold that Stretch settled on his forehead. He startled as another settled close to his cervical vertebrae, then relaxed into that as well. 

It was almost too cold, but before he could even shiver, Stretch was drawing the blanket back up. “trust me, babe, the right level of cold and warm is a delicate balancing act. try to get some sleep, yeah?”

“Can’t,” he rasped out. The idea of sleep tantalized even as he struggled to drift off. His thoughts were in turmoil, foggy as they were with illness. He wasn’t accustomed to this, he _hated_ this.

“rest, then, yeah?” A knock at the door made him startled and Stretch caught the ice packs before they could fall to the floor. “easy, i got it.”

Stretch only opened the door enough to lean out and the murmur of conversation didn’t reach Edge’s stuffy hearing. It took only a moment before Stretch closed the door again and turned back around with a covered dish in his hands. 

“didn’t think you wanted me anywhere near the kitchen, so i called for reinforcements,” Stretch teased lightly. When Edge only stared at him with muddled confusion, he added, “janice said she owes you some payback and made chicken noodle soup for you, said it’s the best medicine out there.”

“No one we know?” Edge murmured and Stretch barked out a startled laugh. 

“i’m surprised you can even make a joke right now. you’ve made that one before, no points for you. now, do you want some soup?”

He wasn’t exactly hungry, but soup did sound enticing. “Please?”

“let me get a bowl. hang on.”

In no little time he had not only a bowl but also a tray, a spoon, and a proper cloth napkin. If Edge hadn’t been so worried about germs, he would have kissed him. 

Edge managed to eat half of the carefully ladled out bowl. Even though he couldn’t really taste it properly, it was hot and soothing. With a sigh, he pushed it clumsily away, letting Stretch rescue it before it could fall. His sockets were drifting shut without his permission. He’d rest them for a moment, yes, like Stretch had suggested. A little rest, that would be fine. 

“sleep well, my love,” he heard dimly, felt the gentle touch of fingertips against his forehead. Before he drifted off, he barely felt the light pressure of a Check. Not that he cared; Stretch could Check him whenever he wanted, Edge had nothing to hide. It was almost comforting, the softness of Stretch's magic brushing his own. It eased his fitful thoughts and with a heavy sigh, he fell into a restful sleep, content with knowing Stretch was close by, watching over him.

 

-finis-


	11. Showtime (Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's movie night but that's not the show that Stretch is interested in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter! Be warned!
> 
>  
> 
> These drabbles ended up a little out of order with the series. I recommend reading up to ‘No Place Like Home’ in the regular series and then coming back to finish the Drabble series. :)

* * *

"Be quiet or else the others will hear," Edge whispered against the side of his skull. 

Stretch let out another broken moan, a stuttering, lost sound as Edge crowded in behind him, pressing him closer to the wall. Sass was a little beyond him at the moment. He might have been able to come up with a word or two, not clever ones, no, but _something_ past the garbled little sounds escaping him if it weren’t for Edge’s hand between his legs. The firm pressure of his thumb as it stroked him through his pants was too much, hot friction against his cock and Stretch could only whimper pleadingly, wordlessly begging. 

"Or maybe that's what you want," Edge murmured, tauntingly. His thumb moved with aching slowness, tracing up the hard line pushing against Stretch’s fly. "Is it? Do you want the others to hear you? You certainly seemed to want to give them a show earlier."

Okay, so maybe this was a little bit Stretch’s fault. Movie night was usually fun but meh, working their way through the Best Picture nominees of the year was fucking _boring_. Blue and Papyrus’s debate over it even more so. Even popcorn mixed with m & m’s wasn’t enough to hold his attention for long. 

Teasing Edge, now, that was way more entertaining. Starting at dinner with a little touch here, the brush of a kiss there. Fingertips skirting under the hem of his shirt to barely trace the line of his iliac crest before pulling teasingly away. An hour into the movie and Stretch had managed to sprawl out in Edge’s lap on the love seat, wriggling just a little, in just the right place, until he could hear Edge’s teeth grinding. Easy enough to resist the way Edge tried to discreetly get a hand on Stretch’s hip to hold him still, easy enough to pass it off and none of the others had given them more than a glance and an eyeroll. 

Yeah, _that_ was entertainment, that was worth the price of admission, and if he had half a working brain factory, Stretch never would have gone to the kitchen on his own for more popcorn. 

He may as well have put out an advertisement for some timely revenge. But most of his magic had started pooling below the belt a long time ago, it wasn’t like Stretch was immune to his own teasing, thanks, so actual thinking wasn’t top priority. Besides, even in his worst suspicions he wouldn’t have thought Edge would do this, fuck, this wasn’t even their kitchen, Sans was going to _kill_ them, they might as well make a suicide pact if Papyrus walked in on this and—

“I didn’t catch that.” Edge’s tongue was a line of hot slickness, licking a delicate path along his jawline. “Did you want them to hear you?”

"no!" Stretch gasped. He didn’t, not a fucking chance, not at all, he had no interest in giving anyone a free show, but it was so hard to fucking _think_. The thin line of Edge’s thumb became the rough pressure of the heel of his hand, dragging against his cock through denim. 

"Hmm, no? Not that they need to hear you,” Edge told him, darkly amused. “Red wouldn’t need to even take a look at you to know. My brother always knows more than he should. Think you can sit out there while he looks at you and _knows_? Sans would know, too, of course he would, and your brother—"

"edge," Stretch's voice was a spider web of sound, desperate and thin, "edge, i can’t…i…don't…"

Immediately, Edge pulled away, raising his hands and letting him go entirely. Stretch wobbled on his feet, turning to lean against the wall as he looked back at Edge in dismay

"Go back, then," Edge said calmly. He tucked his hands in his pockets and Stretch wished for one brief nanosecond that he could possibly hate him. Edge looked as cool and calm as ever, not a button undone or a wrinkle in his trousers. There was hardly the barest flush of pink to his cheekbones to give him away, while Stretch probably looked like someone had bent him over a dining room chair. He could feel his t-shirt clinging to him sweatily and he didn’t have to look down to see that no one was going to believe he was smuggling a roll of quarters in his pants. 

Damn it all to hell… 

Edge only stood, waiting, as Stretch shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to get the hamster wheel in his skull turning enough to come up with actual sentences. 

“but—” Stretch started, broke off. He felt his face heat even further at the desperate little squeak in his voice, yeah, probably hadn’t greased up his thoughts enough yet. 

"Well? Go on, then," Edge urged, jerking a thumb casually at the door. His mouth twisted into a smirk as Stretch scowled at him. "I would never do anything you didn’t want, love.”

"i didn’t say stop," Stretch muttered, crossly. He shoved his hands into his own pockets, only to wince and yank them back out, his pants were too fucking tight, damn it. He dug in his hoodie pocket for his cigarettes instead. Sans was already going to kill him and he could only die once; may as well rack up the sins. “just because i'd rather our brothers not get a front row seat doesn’t mean—"

"But it does," Edge interrupted. The pack of cigarettes fell to the ground as he caught Stretch's fluttering hands, pinned his slim wrists against the wall as he leaned up and stole a kiss, whispering into Stretch's startled mouth, "It does and they’ll know. They’ll take one look at the pretty flush on your cheeks and know exactly what we were doing in here." 

He squeezed Stretch’s wrists warningly, then let go of one, allowed his free hand to slide the down the smooth line of Stretch's side, stroking through the thinness of his t-shirt. "I promise you, they will know."

Stretch was already squirming, arching up, his body already begging. With a careful nudge, Edge worked a leg between Stretch's thighs, gliding upward until he could press his knee against the aching firmness of his cock. It gave Stretch something to writhe against, something to draw a strained little cry from between his teeth. 

"They’ll know," Edge crooned to him, pressing his free hand over Stretch’s sternum where his soul fluttered with rabbity swiftness. "What they won’t know is if I fucked you or if I had you on your knees. Is that what you want?”

"oh, fuck!" Stretch whimpered, a reedy little cry that was nearly bitten back. He clicked his teeth shut, damming whatever other words that tried to stampede free behind them. 

It didn’t work, not with Edge suddenly coaxing them apart with his own tongue to whisper into his mouth, “Yes."

His kiss caught the choking cry that broke loose as he pushed his hand into the front of Stretch’s jeans, his fingers curling around the shaft almost too hard, gripping, stroking as Stretch moaned and writhed and came, it one hard, wracking convulsion.

Edge caught the worst of the mess in his gloved hand before pulling it free. Blearily, Stretch watched as he raised it to his mouth, his eye lights brilliant, heated crimson as he licked a stripe of wet orange magic from his fingers. 

“babe,” Stretch said weakly. He only just caught his balance as Edge abruptly stepped back, wobbling on his unsteady feet with little aftershocks still trembling through him. 

Coolly, Edge stripped off his gloves, folding them together, and tucking them into his pocket before smoothing out his shirt briskly. “You might want to take a shortcut to the bathroom,” Edge told him, that little smirk still in place. “If they take one look at you…well…”

Yeah, Edge didn’t have to spell that one out. Like a walking advertisement for well fucked. 

“Don’t forget the popcorn,” Edge called and walked back out to the living room, leaving Stretch with sweat stinging in his sockets and his pants a mess, still embarrassingly turned on and trying to decide if he was relieved or disappointed that Edge hadn’t gotten him on his knees. 

Well. Not yet, anyway.

Probably better that Edge had left and didn’t get the advanced warning that Stretch’s fiendishly delighted grin would have given him. The night was still young and the movie wasn’t over. 

And Sans could only kill them once. 

-finis-


	12. Addendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who has been wondering what the other’s thought about all that, I’d like to add an addendum to the previous drabble.  
>  

* * *

The moment the door swung shut behind Edge, Sans turned up the volume on the television. Better to get a head start on that before the impromptu kitchen concert got going.

From the other side of the living room, Red tipped his head backwards over the chair arm to give him a sly grin. “just gonna let ‘em _utilize_ your kitchen like that, huh?”

“i lay no claim on the kitchen, that’s all paps.” Sans ignored the way Red flicked his tongue lightly against his teeth. Asshole. “better if they keep what their _cooking_ in there, anyway.”

“I always thought I taught my brother better than this,” Blue said mournfully. The exasperated amusement in his eye lights told another story. 

“i know i didn’t,” Red said lazily. “dunno where the fuck he got his manners. but even i think it’s rude to whip up a little chef’s delight in someone else’s kitchen.”

“Edgey-me is more than welcome to use my kitchen, he is a very good cook and he cleans up after himself,” Papyrus said primly. “Besides, I don’t think they’re cooking at all, I believe they went in there to have se—”

“anyway!” Sans interrupted loudly. “i think we’ve all suffered through enough of the artsy shit for the night. let’s switch this out for black panther.”

“noisy actions scenes seem to be the order of the night, yeah.” A loud thump came from the kitchen and they all glanced at the door, Red muttering, “rather we only dealt with the ones on the tv, though. make it quick, sansy.”

Sans kept back any puns about Red being the one who was quick on the draw and did. He knocked up the volume a little more while he was at it. Better safe than sorry with whatever the two Masterchefs were up to. 

He owed Edge one for what had gone down last week, and Stretch for not ratting him out. One. May as well let them make it count.

Fin


	13. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of life's journeys are difficult. Having a travel buddy tends to make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has depiction of depression and I like to warn for that. As I often say, I find writing about it therapeutic but my depression isn't yours, so stay healthy and avoid it if it'll be upsetting.

* * *

Every day since Stretch had gotten home from the hospital, he’d been waiting on the sofa in the evenings when Edge came home from work. It wasn’t specifically unusual; he’d often done the same thing before, but it had been of note to Edge who was keeping a mental track of his husband’s state of being. 

Which meant it was especially of note today, when he wasn't. 

Their bedroom door was closed, a sign that Stretch hadn’t walked through it this morning. He always left it open, said that he liked to let the sunlight come in through the upstairs windows. 

The coffee pot was untouched, the pot Edge brewed before he left for work was still on the warmer, smelling faintly scorched. He took a moment to pour it down the drain, noting the covered plate of muffins that he’d set out was also exactly as he had left it. 

A quick glance outside confirmed that at least the chickens had been cared for; that was something, at least. 

He didn’t call out, going up the stairs with quiet but obvious steps. When he opened the door, the light wasn’t on, but there was enough coming in through the curtains that he could see Stretch sitting in the far corner, opposite to the bed. His hood was pulled up over his skull, his face buried in his upraised knees, and his arms around them. Curled into himself. 

Edge sighed inwardly, his soul aching. He’d been expecting this, after everything that had happened. Stretch’s last depressive episode had been far too long ago. It was a sign that the therapy and medication were helping, Edge was sure, but he’d never expected them to go away entirely. Stretch's mental health was an ongoing journey and Edge wanted to be with him on it, as much as he could. 

He walked over, his stocking feet quiet on the carpeted floor, and crouched next to him. Softly, he asked, “Love?”

Stretch tensed, almost cringed, but he didn’t lift his head. Not the best of signs. Edge hated this, hated that Stretch ever had to suffer through this. He dismissed that thought as self-serving and pointless; he _did_ have to, and all Edge could do was try to ease the burden of it for him. That much he could do. 

“Would you like something to drink? Some tea, maybe?” Edge didn’t try to coax or persuade, Blue did enough of that for both of them, but he wanted to offer, remind Stretch that whatever he needed wasn’t a bother or a burden. 

He only shook his head slightly, his skull whispering against the fabric of his pajama pants. 

“All right,” Edge said calmly, “What do you need?” 

There was a chance he would answer, and if he didn’t, Edge would leave him be for a while. In an hour or two, he’d try again. Eventually, Stretch would reply and Edge was nothing if not patient. 

To his relieved pleasure, he didn’t need to wait. 

“i think—” Stretch’s voice was low, hoarse, as if he’d been crying, muffled into his pants. “i think i need to sit here for a while.”

Edge nodded slowly despite the fact that Stretch couldn’t see him. “Do you need to do it alone?”

A long moment of silence and finally Stretch lifted his face. His cheeks were streaked with pale orange magic, stained beneath his sockets. Another slipped free as Edge watched, trailing down until dripped from his chin, soaking into his hoodie. 

“no,” Stretch whispered. 

Carefully, Edge settled on the floor next to him. Not touching, only putting himself between Stretch and the door, making himself a wall to shield him from the outside world. 

Beside him, Stretch dropped his head back down, hiding his face into his legs. But he leaned in, a little, pressing their sides together. Stealing a little of Edge’s natural warmth, perhaps, and he was welcome to it. 

They sat there in silence for a time, then Stretch shifted, moving so that one eye light could peer out over his arm, soft and pale. “do you know what the odds were of us ever meeting?”

“I don’t,” Edge said quietly. Math was not one of his specialties, certainly not Stretch and Sans’s version of it. “I suspect you do.”

“yeah…” Stretch said, low. He moved enough to lay his head on Edge’s shoulder. “i’m glad i met you.”

Cautiously, Edge dropped his own skull down to rest on top of Stretch’s. It lent a strange echo inside his head as he whispered, “Me too, love. Me too.”

The light outside was dwindling into twilight but Edge didn’t care. He was content to stay here as long as Stretch needed. 

-finis-


	14. Be Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge is not a fan of Valentine’s Day.

* * *

It was still dark outside when Edge rolled over to turn off his alarm. Before he could get out of bed, warm, bony hands settled against his back, smoothing over the silk fabric of his pajamas. Edge allowed them to draw him down, rolling over to face his husband.

“good morning.” Stretch’s voice was still thick with sleep, his eye lights soft and diffused. The delicate curve of his collarbone peeked out enticingly from the top of their comforter; Stretch never slept in pajamas despite owning several pairs in a variety of searing colors and sporting obnoxious slogans.

“Good morning,” Edge murmured, tugging him a little closer and kissing him gently. 

Stretch hummed in soft appreciation but he drew away before Edge could take advantage of the invitation those sleek, bare bones offered. “tomorrow is valentine’s day.”

“It is.” Edge would have been hard pressed to miss the Human holiday with the decorations not only spread out through every store, as they had been since the beginning of January, but also at the Embassy. 

Public relations suggested that celebrating Human holidays alongside their own helped with building community ties, and most Monsters didn’t need an excuse to enjoy more festivities.

But where Edge had a certain fondness for Gyftmas, Valentine’s struck him as tawdry and garish, filled with easily discarded paper hearts whereas he preferred permanence when it came to love. Perhaps once it had been a holiday of lovers. Now it seemed more like a commercialized excuse for tasteless chocolates. 

“I don’t have anything specific planned,” Edge admitted. “Was there something you wanted to do?” He was willing to set his own feelings on the holiday aside for Stretch. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if Stretch decided he loved the glittery opulence of it this year and Edge would tolerate it, for him.

“oh, do i get to submit a request?” Stretch asked, his eye lights shining with amusement. “do you need it in writing?”

“In triplicate and notarized,” Edge said dryly. “What did you want, love?”

“hm, let me think.” Stretch squirmed in closer, ignoring Edge’s stifled groan over the delightful press of bones against his own, as he considering it with great seriousness. “i’ve got it. i want about fifteen minutes of snuggling before you go to work,” he ticked off each on a finger as he went on, “when you get home, i’d like if you could make something for dinner, as simple or as complicated as you want, and after we eat, we could snuggle on the couch together and watch a movie. i claim advanced rights to the big spoon position.”

“That’s what we do every night,” Edge protested, with cautious amusement.

“well, yeah,” His tone indicated that was obvious, but the way his fingers were starting to creep beneath Edge’s shirt was fairly distracting. “don’t need to mess with perfection.”

“Anything you want, love.” Although Edge would make a point to have his favorite dessert prepared, possibly some extra snacks for later in the night, and he might add another blanket and a pillow or two to the sofa for premium cuddling.

As for losing the position of big spoon, that was fine. Simply having Stretch next to him was always the best position, so long as he was there.

With that decided, there were other issues at hand or rather, beneath his hands as he abruptly rolled Stretch under him, his startled laugh collapsing into a sweet, broken moan. It might well be the same thing they did every day, but Edge still had exactly twelve minutes before he needed to get out of bed and he planned to make the most of them.

-Finis-


End file.
